Chapter 16: Get over it

Strangely enough, I feel much lighter than just now, like I’ve come to terms in her death. Like she didn’t even die in the first place. In fact, I feel kind of…weird.

Just how much sugar did the guy put in my coffee?

I drink the rest, anyway. This is great coffee. Leaving a tip too generous for me to afford, I stumble off to a pub and boisterously order a beer with lots of sugar. It’s all gone in about ten seconds. I am now well and truly drunk and seeing double images of everything.

I walk out again and start giggling uncontrollably. There’s something hilarious about this all. Someone pushes me and I go sprawling on the road. There’s a nasty cut and bruise for tomorrow. “And a very good evening to you too!” I yell at the other drunk, who swears in an uncanny impersonation of the boss. Picking myself off the road, I wave down a cab. But it isn’t a cab, it’s just a very annoyed passerby. When I ask him where Kings Cross Station is, he points left. Or is it right? No matter, I’ll follow the arrow. I mean finger. “Merry Christmas!” I call. I don’t know if it’s Christmas yet, really.

Ten minutes of walking and I am confronted by a flight of steps. I take one step and fall over. “Who moved the steps?” I ask no one in particular. I take a step forward and trip on the steps. “Oh. Here they are.” I proceed to give them a good hiding.

After getting upstairs (a miracle in itself) I take out my keys and aim for the keyhole, but it isn’t my keys I’m holding. “Oops,” I say, as the stale piece of bread falls onto the ground and snaps.

It takes me another three near misses before I finally get the door open. The phone rings. “Hail >hic
“Evans, you ass. What’s wrong with you?” the Boss, or the Swear Man, says.

“Ass? Like Donkey? Hee-haw. Hic. Send someone to >hic< check my stairs, I think they move. Have fun at the club or wherever you ar…” thud.